Page 45 of The 1 Lawyer

The crowded rows on the other side of the aisle were filled with Aurora Gates’s family and supporters, uniformed and plainclothes cops, and the staff of the DA’s office. I saw the jury alternate seated a couple of rows behind Aurora Gates’s stepmother. The alternate had lingered at the courthouse for seven hours to hear the verdict. I hadn’t misread her opinion of my client.

It was time to bring the jury into court.

But the prosecution table was empty. We couldn’t proceed.

At the bench, Judge Walker looked down at me and said, “Where’s Mr. Gordon-James?”

How should I know? I swallowed back the terse response as the DA hurried into the courtroom, followed by the victim’s father and the preacher who had been present throughout the trial.

As soon as Gordon-James took his seat, Charlene ushered the jury of twelve into the box.

Judge Walker turned to them. “Have you reached a verdict?”

“We have, Your Honor.”

The woman acting as foreperson held the sheets of paper so tightly that the knuckles of her hands were white. She wasn’t one of the allies I’d pinned my hopes on.

Judge Walker reached out for the pages. The bailiff took them from the foreperson and handed them up to the bench, and the judge adjusted his eyeglasses before shuffling through the sheets.

He cleared his throat. “The defendant will please stand for the reading of the verdict.”

Our chairs slid across the floor as we rose together. I felt Caro’s legs shaking.

Here it comes.

Judge Walker studied the top page, prolonging the wait.

If Caro is convicted, what does Joey Roman have planned for me? Will there be more than one assailant? Will it happen tonight or am I doomed to live in a state of dread for days or weeks?

The judge read, “‘As to count one, we, the jury, find the defendant not guilty.’”

The phrase soared inside my head. Not guilty. But the reading wasn’t over. We hadn’t heard the outcome on count two, charging Caro with the murder of the unborn child. It would be illogical for the jury to convict on count two after they’d acquitted him of Aurora Gates’s murder—but you never know what a jury might decide. We waited in silence.

“‘As to count two, we, the jury, find the defendant not guilty.’”

The courtroom remained hushed, as if the onlookers were stunned. Beside me, Caro’s trembling became more pronounced. By contrast, I felt my muscles relax. Joey Roman wouldn’t be imposing a personal penalty on me after all.

Beyond the unquestionable relief, my reaction wasn’t the usual victory rush. Instead of feeling jubilant, I felt like I had done something wrong but managed to get away with it.

Immediately behind me, a whoop of triumph broke the silence. Technically, Hiram Caro’s victory cry was premature. The jury instructions had also included lesser offenses: second-degree murder, manslaughter. But as the judge read on, the refrain continued: Not guilty.

Finally, the judge set the written verdicts on the bench. Addressing the jury, he said, “Is this your verdict?”

The foreperson replied, “It is, Your Honor.”

And then the courtroom erupted.

CHAPTER 33

I HAD never witnessed anything like it.

Sure, I’d seen courtrooms descend into chaos before. But that was on television, in national news coverage of trials in faraway cities. Nothing like this had ever happened in Biloxi, not in my recollection.

The repetitions of Not guilty agitated the left side of the courtroom, the pro-prosecution side—a dozen benches filled with people who were outraged by the jury’s decision. The murder victim’s father was the first one on his feet. Benjamin Gates countered Hiram Caro’s victory cry with a shout of his own: “It’s not right!”

The Gates family took up the chant, adding their voices to the chorus, and the room echoed with It’s not right! It’s not right! No one tore down the aisle and rushed to the bench, but the courtroom rang with the crowd’s discontent and dismay.

As the bedlam continued, I searched the back rows, grateful for the heavy law enforcement presence in the courtroom. But the cops made no effort to subdue the uproar. From where I sat, they appeared to support it. The cops and the DA’s staff didn’t join the chant, but they were clearly disgruntled. They exchanged unhappy comments, looking daggers at the jury.

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